Love and Its Counterfeit: A Novel

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F.V. White, 1883

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Page 1 - There is a glorious city in the sea; The sea is in the broad, the narrow streets, Ebbing and flowing; and the salt sea-weed Clings to the marble of her palaces. No track of men, no footsteps to and fro, Lead to her gates! The path lies o'er the sea, Invisible: and from the land we went, As to a floating city — steering in, And gliding up her streets, as in a dream...
Page 17 - Tis sweet to hear At midnight on the blue and moonlit deep The song and oar of Adria's gondolier, By distance mellow'd, o'er the waters sweep , 'Tis sweet to see the evening star appear ; 'Tis sweet to listen as the night-winds creep From leaf to leaf ; 'tis sweet to view on high The rainbow, based on ocean, span the sky.
Page 82 - Tell friendship of unkindness ; Tell justice of delay; And if they will reply, Then give them all the lie. Tell arts they have no soundness, But vary by esteeming; Tell schools they want profoundness, And stand too much on seeming: If arts and schools reply, Give arts and schools the lie.
Page 32 - Sigh no more, Lady, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever ; One foot on sea, and one on land, To one thing constant never. " Hadst thou been fond, he had been false, And left thee sad and heavy ; For young men ever were fickle found, Since summer trees were leafy.
Page 215 - He turn'd not—spoke not—sunk not—fix'd his look, And set the anxious frame that lately shook: He gazed — how long we gaze despite of pain, And know, but dare not own, we gaze in...
Page 97 - He is a fool who thinks by force or skill To turn the current of a woman's will.
Page 49 - Love, like the flower that courts the sun's kind ray, Will flourish only in the smiles of day ; Distrust's cold air the generous plant annoys, And one chill blight of dire contempt destroys.
Page 178 - Hope tells a flattering tale, Delusive, vain, and hollow, Ah let not Hope prevail, Lest disappointment follow.
Page 154 - Most sad, she sat ; but oh if Sorrow stole A charm awhile from Beauty, Beauty's self Might envy well the charm that Sorrow lent To every perfect feature...
Page 127 - Where shone the opal ring — Where the colors danced and shifted On the pretty, changeful thing. Just the old, old story Of light and shade, Love like the opal tender, Like it may be to vary — May be to fade. Just the old tender story, Just a glimpse of morning glory In an earthly Paradise, With shadowy reflections In a pair of sweet brown eyes. Brown eyes a man might well Be proud to win! Open to hold his image, Shut under silken lashes, Only to shut him in.

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